Blood on Black Paws
by skipper-of-otters
Summary: A young vixen is framed for murdering several long patrol hares. Tracked by revenge hungry hares through a Mossflower still ripe with anti-vermin prejudice, does she stand any chance of surviving? Warning: When I say PG-13, I mean it.


Prologue

Throughout history, northeastern Mossflower had been known for bad fall storms, and the night Stevig found himself out in did little to change that perception. No creature would be out and about on a night like this if he or she could help it. However, the circumstances Stevig and his companions found themselves in were far from ordinary.

The small group knew that two lives were staked on their actions this night, and Stevig was determind to make sure those lives were saved. Nothing was about to deter the otter from his mission, even if he had to go it alone – something he worried about given that his companions weren't built to handle storms the way otters were.

Stevig rans his claws along his crossbow nervously as he walked, and tried to search for any signs of his quarry in the thick fog and heavy, pelting rain. When frustration at his lack of success began to kick in, he tried to engage his cold, soaking companions in some upbeat small talk.

"Nacasa?"

The hogmaid to Stevig's left shook herself, causing water to erupt every which way from her spikes, then turned to face him. Her face gave a distinct impression of wanting to be left alone to sulk about the cold and wet, and she held her staff loosely at the ready. Stevig decided to ignore these signs, at some risk to himself.

"Yes, Stevig?"

The otter gave his companion a roguish grin.

"Remember when we thought the western mountains were as bad as it could get?"

The hogmaid snorted and gripped her staff harder, despite the fact her paws were almost completely numb from the cold.

"You think that was worse than this? At least back then we had proper gear, and the visibility wasn't too bad, even if we kept getting stuck in snowdrifts. The only thing I can think of that could possibly be worse than this would be that damn quagmire we ran into once."

To Stevig's right, a young fox shivered in the rain as he broke into the conversation. Like Nacasa, he was armed with a staff, but his stance was hardly confident. In fact, he seemed downright jumpy.

"What sort of quagmire?"

Despite her mood, Nacasa had to grin as Stevig answered.

"Not the figure of speech type of quagmire, Karl. A real one."

The fox shuddered.

"Oh."

Stevig couldn't suppress a chuckle. However, the fox remained glum.

"Any sign of Fallesta yet?"

Nacasa tried to shield her eyes as the group continued walking into the deluge.

"In this weather, most of the signs she left are probably long gone by now. I haven't seen anything since those last footprints I pointed out a fair ways back, though in these conditions I easily could have missed something. No sign of Ellis, either."

Stevig sighed.

"Keep at it, old girl. There's too much at stake here for us to fail."

Karl looked pleadingly at Stevig.

"I love her, Stevig. I can't just let those hares, and whoever else is out for her blood kill her!"

Stevig gave Karl a hearty slap on the back, causing the fox to jump.

"That's why Nacasa and I are here to help, mate, at considerable risk to ourselves and our respect back home. Maybe even at considerable risk to our home's reputation, if we run into too much trouble. As for Fallesta, we're not content simply to let her die because she's a fox, like some others I could name." Stevig paused for a moment.

"Make sure you thank Nacasa, she's taking a bigger risk than I am."

"Don't mention it, Stevig. I'm out here because my conscience wouldn't let me sleep well knowing I could help another creature and didn't, not because of any of Karl's begging."

"Same here. Well, maybe Karl's begging helped convince me just a little."

The fox bowed his head sadly.

"Anyone feel like a little music? I have my harmonica with me."

"I don't know. Are you just going to play more of that sad, sorrowful tripe you were playing earlier today?"

Stevig threw Nacasa an appalled look. "You're brutal, you know that?"

The fox tried to brush some of the water away from his eyes with a free paw.

"I know that my mood must really get to creatures, but I can't help it. It's just impossible for me not to be down right now. With all that... with all that's..." Karl broke off with a sob.

Unable to think of anything with which to comfort the fox, Stevig was forced to change the subject.

"I wonder where Matrox has gotten to?"

Nacasa shifted her grip on her staff and replied with a flippant tone.

"I trust that oversized brushtail will show up when he darn well feels like it."

"I don't trust Matrox." Despite the fox's calm nature, Stevig could detect a hint of venom in Karl's voice. "I just can't. I know he and his crew are the only ones that can do provide the brawn to back us up, but he really, really hates me. I can tell that much."

"If I was in you position, Karl, I wouldn't trust him either unless I as in me was with myself." Despite his intelligence, Stevig's brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his tongue around what he meant. "Rest assured, though, Matrox will do his part. He's doing this for me, not you, or Fallesta, or Ellis. He won't just turn his back on me, no matter how much he might moan about how I'm making him help two foxes and a ferret."

Karl's tone turned morbid.

"I hope you're right, mate, I hope you're right."

A painful silence followed until Nacasa decided to speak her mind.

"I wish I had brought my warpaints with me. Ah well, they'd probably wash off pretty quick in the rain anyway."

Stevig made the mistake of making an issue of hogmaid's aggressive demeanor. "I thought hogmaiden's were supposed to gentle, Nacasa. But no, you're just mean. And violent. And nasty..."

Stevig cut off with a yelp as the Nacasa's staff tapped him none too lightly in the ribs.

"Ah! Watch it, old girl! I don't think you've learned how much you can injure other beasts with that oversized stick of wood yet."

"Oversized stick of wood? This is a good staff, you bird brained otter! Unlike you, I have a lot of practice with my weapon, and I'm also ten times the warrior you'll ever be!"

Stevig tried to blow some droplets of water off his muzzle.

"I doubt that. Ten of me versus one of you? You'd lose pretty badly."

"I was using a figure of speech, Stevig."

Karl gave a massive shudder in the cold, showering Stevig with water droplets from the thick fur of his partial grown winter coat. Luckily, Stevig was standing in the right position to shield Nacasa from the blast, which saved the fox from receiving a somewhat violent response.

"Maybe she couldn't take ten of you, Stevig, but I'd be inclined to think she could put up more than a fair fight even against such odds."

Nacasa gave a harsh and most unladylike laugh.

"You're darn right I would, Karl. A couple good kicks to the arse, or better yet the good old twin bird's eggs, would send this big baby of a riverdog running for his mommy."

Stevig turned back to Karl.

"See what I mean about her, mate? Violent little creature." The otter jumped as Nacasa hit him on the backside with her staff.

"What in the name of the dark forest was that for, you little freak? This just proves my point, Karl. Karl?"

The fox had stopped and was watching a bush intently. A sudden lightning flash lit up the small clearing around them. The flash revealed an impressively muscled squirrel with a saber. Behind him, four more squirrels stood, arrows notched to their bows. Nacasa and Stevig nearly jumped out of their respective fur and spikes before realizing the arrows weren't drawn. Despite the fact he had almost no fighting experience, Karl seemed completely unphased. A moment after the flash faded, Matrox spoke.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you. When you engage in idle chatter while on a mission, you miss things. Things that could mean the difference between life and death. In these sorts of conditions, you need to concentrate completely on what you're doing. Don't be distracting each other."

"Uh, sir, I was still able to hear you and your squirrels approaching from a long way off."

Matrox fixed Karl with an icy glare as he stepped out of the bush and verbally ripped into the fox like a crow ripping into a dead corpse.

"I've heard enough from you about how well your species can hear things, and how your hearing is even better than that of a typical member of your species because of all your musical training. Guess what? I don't care." Matrox's voice changed from a threatening whisper to an angry rant. "I don't give a damn about you or any other fox. I know the Abbot has been trying to convince the tribes of Mossflower to give peace a chance, but me and just about every other squirrel who calls himself a member of the Covrai has had at least one bad run in with vermin before, and we aren't as forgiving as those softhearted Redwallers are."

"Who says Redwallers are soft, treehopper?" Nacasa barred her teeth at Matrox before Stevig shot her a warning glare. The otter knew the hogmaid was proud of her home, but this was not the time.

Matrox continued, his voice now clearly audible for some distance.

'You're the exception to the rule, miss. Stevig too, though he ain't really a Redwaller. I'm only here to help Stevig out." The squirrel's gaze shifted to Karl "You and your little vixen can go to hellgates as far as I'm concerned."

The words stung Karl deeply. A quick glance at the fox's eyes revealed to Stevig just how harshly the fox had taken the squirrel's casual but strongly prejudice comment. The otter quickly tried to change the subject.

"Any sign of Fallesta or the ferret yet, Matrox?"

Matrox's tone seemed to chastise the otter for his optimism.

"Even with an entire team of my best squirrels out there we're only finding occasional signs. We're not even sure we're going the right direction, heck, the signs could be from a different pair of vermin altogether." The squirrel practically hissed the last word, his posture becoming tense. Finally, Karl had had enough of the squirrel's disrespect and found the backbone to tell the squirrel such.

"Fallesta and Ellis are hardly "vermin", you heartless..."

"Shut up, fox!" Karl lapsed into silence as Matrox turned to Stevig and raised his voice to a near yell, complete with spats of saliva to emphasis certain words.

"Me and my comrades are still with you for now, Stev, but we aren't finding much around here. By the time we catch up to this pair of freaking vermin you want me to find, they'll probably be either dead or in the paws of the Long Patrol. And remember, as soon as you get too far north, I'm not going with you. I'm sorry, but my tribe and I have our own pressing issues to deal with back home." The squirrel paused. "Also keep in mind that I refuse to help you do anything if we find the Long Patrol has them. It's bad enough you're dragging me into this vermin love story, with a vixen who MIGHT be innocent of the crimes the Long Patrol wants to execute her for, and a good for nothing sissy who will do anything to save her, without dragging me into a fight with the Long Patrol. I'll not risk the Covrai's status as allies of Salamandastron, and above all I refuse to fight hares."

"Fallesta is innocent, sir. She wouldn't murder -"

Matrox fixed Karl with a glare colder then the rain falling around them.

"Didn't I tell you to shut your damn mouth, brushtail?"

The following moments were silent, save for the rain and Matrox's fuming. This left Stevig the chance to consider what he had gotten himself into. The more he thought about it, the more he started to realize that Matrox probably wasn't in this out of loyalty so much as for a chance to use his impressive swordplay on any vermin who decided to get in Stevig's way.

The otter glanced over at Karl, only to see the fox's ears twitch.

"Hear something, Karl?"

The fox shuddered.

"There's something moving over there." The tense fox's voice nearly cracked with nervousness as he pointed to a location a short distance ahead.

Matrox gave a harsh laugh.

"Ha! Probably just one of my squirrels making a message run through the trees. Don't jump at nothing, fox."

"I'm not jumping at nothing. That noise is soft, and coming from ground level, like a group of creatures trudging through mud, not the distinctively harsh but rather quiet sound of squirrel claws on tree bark."

"Aw... you think that some of the thugs who are after your little vixen are about, fox?"

The squirrel launched into a full force personal attack on Karl.

"Your kind is so easily frightened, fox. Always looking for a stealthy and underpawed way to do something, rather than a fair and honest fight. You may have good senses, but you take even the smallest sign as the end of the world. No wonder so many of you are seers."

Karl continued staring into the distance, but he was gradually turning to his right. Suddenly he snapped left, he's ears still fully upright. Nacasa spoke up, her normally sure sounding voice fearful.

"Karl, what is it?"

The fox was so focused on what he was doing that it took him a second to answer.

"They're moving faster now... and they've split into two groups. They might be trying to catch us in a pincer."

The sound of bushes being pushed aside to the group's right galvanized Stevig into action. Matrox, now deep into his rant, wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings, and the archer squirrels were playing the part of a silent, intent audience. Despite the fact he was shoving his opinions down Karl's throat, the fox's body language, let alone what Karl was saying, didn't even register in the squirrel's mind as he ranted on.

"You've got paws as black as the evil your kind brings..."

"Get down, damn it!"

Stevig leapt at Matrox and Karl. The three were saved from a hard landing by the thick mud covering the floor of Mossflower that night. Nacasa leapt backwards as two barrages of arrows swept over the spot where the group had been standing moments before, one from either side of the clearing's far end. In the bushes, one of Covrai squirrels yelped as an arrow found a gap in the thick brush. Nacasa couldn't see how seriously he had been wounded. On the ground several paces away, Stevig muttered to his companions.

"No ideal chatter or you'll miss things. Wonderful example of putting your actions where your mouth is, Matrox."

"Shut up, Stevig. Corvanis! Get your boys up into the trees, and try to break their left pincer!"

There was a shuffling in the bushes, then a few seconds later, the sounds of screaming as Corvanis and the other uninjured squirrels tried to break the enemy's coordination. An experienced archer, Corvanis deliberately targeted the enemy leaders in an attempt to disrupt the moral and coordination of their subordinates. In the meantime, Stevig, Karl, and Matrox moved to deal with the enemy to their right. The trio kept low to the ground as they moved for cover behind a small log.

Unfortunately, of the three, only Stevig had much experience with ranged weapons. The otter brought his crossbow to eye level and started searching for targets while his companions fumbled with their slings – weapons they barely understood how to use. Not seeing the enemy, Stevig roared a challenge in an attempt to try and get some of his attackers to rush out before their comrades were in position.

"Come out and fight, you dirty ambushing upstarts!"

It took a second for the otter to become aware of the sharp pain in his left shoulder. It got worse when he tried to move. He glanced over and saw an arrow sticking out of the shoulder. The wound wasn't bad, as the bow hadn't been fully drawn when fired, but Stevig took the opportunity to play dead, and slid behind the log, tapping Matrox on the shoulder as he went. The squirrel saw the injury and nodded. From behind a bush, the sniper gave a quick laugh.

"Big words from a little otter."

Having revealed his location, the assailant signed his own execution papers. Keeping low to the ground, Matrox moved around the left side of the log and pulled himself swiftly through the mud towards the bush. Stevig had never understood where the squirrel got the strength to move so fast in such an awkward way, but the Covrai were known for their physical prowness.

Meanwhile, behind the trio, the first thug to get past Corvanis's archers burst out of the bush. It was the last thing the stoat ever did.

A short yell of "Redwall" was followed by a long, throaty roar of "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!". The sound the stoat's head made when it impacted with Nacasa's staff combined the wetness of slapping a fish against a brick wall with the distinctive cracking of bone. Her adrenaline level quickly rising, the hogmaid spun to look for another opponent. She didn't realized that she had just put herself directly in the path of the sniper who had put an arrow through Stevig's shoulder.

The otter heard Nacasa scream and looked back. He felt a sense of déjà vu as he saw that the hedgehog had also taken an arrow through her left shoulder, but unlike in his case, Nacasa's arrow had pinned her shoulder to the trunk of a nearby tree to boot, making her staff completely useless. He hoped the hogmaid had the sense not to struggle and make the injury worse, and that the enemy would simply ignore her now that she was out of the fight, rather than killing her outright. As the otter returned his concentration to his own fight, however, he realized the sniper wasn't going to be a problem much longer.

The sniper had fallen for Stevig's simple act of playing dead, so he was surprised when he saw an otter's head pop up over the log for a quick look at what was happening. The archer fox snarled and whispered an oath as he took aim at the otter's head.

"I shot you already, damn it. I'm going to splatter your guts around Mossflower if it's the last thing I do."

Stevig went to ground again and the fox hissed in frustration. The sniper didn't spot Matrox moving on the other side of a bush to his right until it was too late. In desperation, the fox fired an arrow at a gap in the foilage. The shaft buried itself tailfin deep in the bush. As he faced his approaching death, the fox's courage left him and he screamed as he pawed for his dagger, expecting to see the squirrel run around the bush any second now. As was the case with many snipers, the fox's melee combat skills were lacking.

Sensing he was about to gain the upper hand, Matrox took a faster route around the bush. He tensed his legs and took as big a leap as he could from his prone position. The big squirrel barely managed to clear the bush.

The fox paused in shock as Matrox came tumbling over the bush. The Covrai squirrel took advantage of this by ripping out his saber and severing the fox's head with a single blow. With his dagger only half drawn, the fox didn't stand a chance.

Giving himself only seconds to recover, Matrox went into a frenzy, attacking his enemies from within their midst. The big squirrel leapt around and delivered death with the artistically complex patterns of quick, brutal slashes that had made him a legend among his tribe. Screams erupted from the far end of the clearing where Stevig and Karl hide as the Covrai's blade found its many marks.

_Concentrate_, Stevig told himself as he saw two thugs burst out of the brush. He picked out a female rat and took aim with his crossbow. With his injured shoulder, the heavy weapon swayed considerably. He whisper to Karl.

"You take the weasel."

The fox nodded. Meanwhile, Stevig held his breath in an attempt to reduce the amount he moved his chest, and by extension, the swaying of the crossbow. With his injured shoulder, it didn't help much. Having been in a few brawls before, Stevig managed to control his fear despite his lack of wartime experience. Taking note of the pattern in the swaying of his weapon, he timed his shot and released as his weapon reached a low point in it's swaying. The recoil did the rest. With an almost inaudible whoosh, the bolt took the female rat through the chest, and the young otter scored his first kill.

Stevig felt a touch of guilt as he watched the rat tense up from the shock, then fell over dead. However, he was immediately overwhelmed by a rush of adrenaline. He watched as Karl gave his best effort with his sling – and missed his target by a considerable margin. The weasel continued to rush in, ready to stab downwards at the pair with his spear. As he fumbled for his sword, Stevig realized he didn't have time to both draw his blade and leap up to counter the attack. As such, he simply screamed the first name that came to his mind.

"Matrox!"

The Covrai leader realized that Stevig's cracking, high pitched scream meant trouble, and broke off from his attack within the bushes.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

The weasel heard the squirrel running up behind him, but Matrox was the much faster sprinter. The master swordsquirrel leapt at his opponent, catching him from behind. A flurry of quick, powerful movements put had the weasel facing his allies and Matrox behind him, though the squirrel nearly lost his balance in the process. The weasel squirmed as cold, sharp steel pressed against his neck.

"Cease your futile attack or this lousy excuse of a being dies!"

Matrox's ultimatum was answered as the tip of an arrow, meant for the Covrai leader, punched through the back of the weasel's skull in a spray of blood.

"Bloody uncivilized vermin." The squirrel spat as he released the corpse and leapt for proper cover. Once landed, he promptly grabbed a clump of leaves and rubbed at his clothes and fur, shuddering as he spoke.

"I hate it when I get foul weasel blood on me."

"Matrox, run and fetch those of your troops who are searching up ahead and get them here. And do it fast, because I think we're going to be overrun in only seconds now." Stevig screamed at the squirrel.

The squirrel nodded and saluted with his crimson stained saber.

"Aye, mate." Sheathing the blade, he blew a rallying whistle, then leapt up onto a treetrunk and took off through the trees, desperate to make sure his subordinates got the message.

Karl had just about given up on fighting at this point as the number of thugs visible near the clearing edge increased. The fox was gripping his staff and had his eyes closed as he said something in ancient foxpeech. Stevig guessed he was praying to nature, as Karl had previously told him that most foxes considered it blasphemous to use any tongue other than their own for such purposes. Stevig elbowed him hard in the upper arm.

"Keep slinging, damn it! You don't have time for that right now, unless you want to get your fur dyed crimson in a rather painful way!"

The fox reluctantly picked up his sling and loaded a stone. As he started to whirl the weapon above his head, the fox whispered to Stevig.

"We're still going to help Fallesta, right?"

The otter slammed the lever home on his pump action crossbow. Despite the fact it was absurd to promise anything in their current situation, he tried to sound reassuring. He knew how paranoid Karl was.

"I don't know about the others, Karl, but I sure as heck am sticking to my word."

* * *

Had he know the situation Fallesta was, Stevig would have made his promise with even less certainty.

The young vixen awoke with a myriad of bruises and scratches, a feverish thirst, and a dehydration induced headache. Her stomach told her she hadn't eaten for hours. Her fur was caked with blood, sweat, and dirt, dulling the normally brilliant contrast between her red, white and black markings. Her forepaws were bound behind her back. Worst of all, she couldn't remember where she was or what had happened – all she felt was that for her, this was the end of the road.

She couldn't see at all due to the lack of light, and lacking the use of her forepaws, she was forced to explore the floor and walls of her prison with her muzzle. The feel of the cold floor stones on her nose was the first trigger for her memory.

A small, abandoned village of stone buildings flashed through her mind. She had drifted in and out of consciousness as she was dragged there from the forest. Her captors had thrown her into the basement of one of the houses, possibly where she was now, for several hours while she recovered from her ordeal. Or, more accurately, recovered enough to be coherent. Then, she was brought before a badger and his hares, who grilled her for hours. They asked her questions about her tribe, the Navedia, about her skills as a healer, about poisons, about her ferret companion Ellis, and a multitude of other things. She remembered the way they all seemed suspicious of her, accusing her of being a murderer, and telling her she was a liar when she started pleading that she didn't understand what was happening to her. Fallesta cringed when she realized she had broken down and started to cry when they aggressively demanded that she tell them things she didn't know. Of course, her interrogators gave her no sympathy, fixing her with angry, icy stares, and generally treating her in a hostile manner. Then, at the end of that grueling afternoon, she remembered being told she was going to die.

That explained the sense of defeat. Fallesta tried to come to grips with what was going to happen to her as she fumbled for her healer's supplies, hoping to find something to dull her headache. She found that everything had been taken from her, except for the clothes on her back.

She grimaced as another piece of the puzzle feel into place. It was the Long Patrol who had caught her, the same hares who believed she had murdered several of their own. Those hares knew there stuff when it came to making escapes, and were more than happy to deprive her of anything that could possibly be used to aid her in such an endeavor, ranging from her weapons to rations. When she had asked the hare Lieutenant about the seizure of her most basic supplies, he grudgingly told her about his respect for the creativity of her species.

That part of the mystery solved, Fallesta started to look for water, hoping that the Long Patrol wouldn't be so sadistic as to deprive her of the precious liquid. Like many creatures, Fallesta had never realized just how much water meant to her until she didn't have any.

Final, after what must have been several minutes, she found a small bowl on the floor. She felt a sense of humiliation at having to bend over and dip her muzzle into the water to drink, but in the end she realized it the bowl was probably better than the alternatives. With her forepaws bound, using any other sort of container would have been extremely difficult.

The foxmaiden took a few laps from the bowl, then jerked up as she heard the creaking of rusty hinges. A door opened across the room to her right, and by the light of a flickering torch she got the first good look at her surroundings. A sense of sadness set in as she realized that this was her last stop before being executed. The weeks of running had only dragged out her long demise.

The cellar had been stripped bare except for some shelves and a small table, and had obviously been abandoned for some time. Any useful supplies stored within had been taken by the hares before she had been imprisoned here. Having glimpsed her location, the vixen turned to face the door... and found herself looking straight into the face of a rather angry looking hare.

Captain Lamastas' appearance was unmistakable. The huge hare might have been handsome at one time, but sagging flesh and muscles gave him the appearance of being much older than he really was. The seemingly accelerated aging of his body, which also gave him rather poor vision and hearing, had been the result of a recent poisoning attack on his squad. The Captain was one of the few survivors, and his ordeal had left the hare angry, with an insatiable appetite for both alcohol and revenge. Since the poisoning, he had been consuming the former in large quantities. How he could walk straight between his lose of muscle coordination and his drunkenness was anyone's guess. Even Fallesta, with her seasons of training as a healer, didn't have a clue how he did it. Since the attack, his voice had taken a deep, brooding tone, and he had dropped much of his Salamandastron accent. The hare officer was not a creature the vixen wanted to be around if she could help it.

She smiled weakly at the hare.

"Anything I can help you with, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, there is." Fallesta flinched as the big hare unceremoniously kicked the water bowl, splashing the semi clean liquid within onto the vixen.

In the desperation of her still unquenched thirst, Fallesta tried to lick some of the water droplets off her tunic. Finding the action futile, the young vixen decided that even if she was going to die, she was going to do so with some dignity. Her footpaws scuffled on the stone floor as she stood up, relying heavily on her tail for balance. She immediately wished she had stayed where she was. Her headache became almost overpowering, and she swayed on rather weak legs. The vixen mustered the courage to meet the hare's angry stare. Unfortunately, she had a feeling things were going to get worse before the end.

The second hare, who was much smaller than the first, stood up on his clawtips and whispered in his Captain's ears. Fallesta's sensitive ears picked up the conversation perfectly, and the vixen found it difficult to keep calm.

"Sir, are you sure this is a bally good idea?"

"Shut up, Lieutenant. My hares upstairs promised me they'd keep quiet, because they want answers as badly as I do. As long as you keep your trap shut, Lord Sandarius never finds out, and we're fine."

Fallesta shuddered. The Captain's comment wasn't the type that inspired hope in her.

Lamastas looked down at her and sneered.

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Fallesta Blackpaws, the little vixen who managed to kill six hares. Never would have guessed it from the way you look now."

"My name is Fallesta Naripaus. Blackpaws is just the literal translation."

"It's the name you gave Sandarius and I when you visited our mountain, fox, and I'm not even sure I'm going to acknowledge the fact you have a name anymore. I want answers, and you're going to give them to me."

The fox backed away slowly.

"I've already told you all I know."

Lamastas gave a short hiss.

"Do you know why you're going to be executed tomorrow, fox?"

Fallesta shook her head.

"I've never done anything to harm you or your hares."

"Sure, and the fact six of my hares died of poison shortly after you left Salamandastron was just a coincident. I already know you're a liar – your story doesn't match that of the ferret. You claimed he was innocent. He claimed otherwise."

"Ellis? Ellis claimed he was guilty?"

"Yes, I think that's the name he gave in his interview."

"What did he say? Isn't he innocent?"

Fallesta didn't even see Lamastas' first punch before it made contact with the side of her head. The shocked vixen fell and landed hard on her tail. As she to regain her footing, Lamastas grabbed her by the front of her tunic and hauled her upright. Fallesta cringed as the hare started shouting.

"Unlike you, fox, he confessed to having taken part in the murders. Says he got the poison from some tribe you passed on the way to Salamandastron, but I'm not so sure about that. I think there are other creatures he could have gotten it from with less risk!"

_Ellis?_

Fallesta couldn't imagine Ellis poisoning the hares. The big ferret may have been a trained soldier, but he had never killed without reason. A wave of anger built up in the vixen.

_Damn it, Ellis, I'm not some kit that needs protecting from everything the world throws at me. You don't have to sacrifice yourself to try and get me out of this. Besides, you're making me look guilty by association!_

She knew it was risky, but she had to take a stand for her friend.

"Ellis is innocent. We're both innocent. He's just making a confession because he thinks you'll let me go if he looks like the guilty one. It would be a great dishonour for him back home if I died in his care."

"You're damn right he's been protecting you. He stood his ground while you ran, killing two of my comrades in the process! Unfortunately for you, I happen to know that assassins don't risk their lives for others without good reason. What are you hiding?"

"I choose to run because I didn't want to be forced to kill any of you, even though you want to kill me. I don't like killing decent beasts just because they end up on the wrong side of a fight."

"You ran because you couldn't fight, you coward!"

"I have far better nightvision and hearing than any hare, and I had a bow with me. Don't think I couldn't have put up a fight if I wanted to."

"Big excuses from a little murderess. Now, I want to know, which of the herbs you were carrying did you use to create the poison the ferret used?"

"My herbs are for medicinal purposes. I could make a poison with them, but it's not a poison you could mix into food without someone noticing."

_I could use one of those poisons myself right now. I'm going to die tomorrow, leave me alone!_

"Don't lie to me, fox. Maybe your kind has trouble telling the truth, but you're damn well going to give it to me."

"I know nothing that I didn't tell Sanderius when he interrogated me. I have no secrets."

This time, Fallesta anticipated the blow, which came from the other side, and managed to keep her footing.

"Maybe Lord Sanderius believes you won't give out any information, or he might even think you're just a accessory to a crime who didn't know much, but I know better."

Tears welled up in the vixen's eyes as she repeated herself in a pleading tone.

"I know nothing. Please believe me."

The hare grabbed the neck of her tunic and hoisted her up. Despite the fact Fallesta wasn't much shorter than most vixens, the hare's action left the vixen's footpaws dangling above the floor. The foxmaiden felt her windpipe press up against the hare's knuckles, making breathing rather difficult. The smell of rum on Lamastas' breath was quite noticeable and nearly drove the vixen into a state of unrestrained panic.

"I want to know what role you had to play in this, you little bitch. I want to know what poisons you used, and who told you to do kill my hares. Was it one of your tribe's leaders? Is your tribe trying to destroy Salamandastron? Speak up, vixen!"

"I didn't poison your hares, and my tribe has nothing to do with this."

One second, Fallesta was flying through the air, the next, the back of her head slammed against the table, and bright flashes of light burst through her brain. The fact the vixen's paws were tied behind her back made the landing particularly hard on her spine. As her head cleared, she tried to move for the door, but Lamastas' strong paws quickly found a grip around her neck, pinning her to the table. The vixen gasped for air, her body jerking as she tried to force enough air through the hare's grip to replace that which was in her lungs. In desperation, she rotated her lower body and lashed out at Lamastas with her hind paws. The stunt was quickly ended by the second hare, who grabbed her footpaws and held them fast to the table. Lamastas' voice dripped with contempt.

"In case you want to try to escape, fox, you should know I have a whole squad of hares sitting near the top of those stairs. I'm sure they'd love to subdue you if you try to escape, and such a stunt would give me the perfect cover up to use if I decide to add a few more major gashes to your collection. Now listen up, because from now on this is how things are going to work."

The vixen, having no choice in the matter, listened from her uncomfortable position as the hare delivered his monologue.

"Lord Sanderius, being the nice beast that he is, may have asked you politely for your side of the story, however, he has his image as a noble badger lord to keep in consideration. I have no such facades to keep up, and therefore can afford to use a few more effective methods to extract information from you."

Fallesta felt sick with fear when the hare accurately predicted the thoughts running through her head at that moment.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. You think Sanderius wouldn't let his beasts torture a creature awaiting her death, and you'd be right. He's a lot nicer to his enemies than I am. You might think that he'll protect you from me, and in that case, you'd be wrong. All the hares in this building are under my command, vixen, and they're in on what I'm about to do to your. So unless you can scream loud enough to be heard outside of this building, you'll receive sympathy from nobeast. I'd love to hear you try and scream that loud, and in fact, I'll be giving you a little help towards achieving such an endeavour."

The hare paused for a moment.

"Or perhaps you think that you'll have marks to use as evidence of what happened here tonight when you're hauled out for execution tomorrow. I could probably make it look like you'd harmed yourself out of depression, or anger, but I'd rather not risk it if I don't have to. I know methods of making a beast extraordinarily uncomfortable without leaving a trace, and that's where we're going to start. I'm no searat, I don't resort to extreme measures at the beginning of the interrogation, and I'm willing to cut you a little deal. If you decide to withhold information from me, I'll make you wish you could just crawl into a hole and die. If on the other paw, you tell me what I want to know, I'll give you rewards. Something to drink, maybe even a little clean up so you'll look presentable for your death tomorrow. Not that you deserve any such gifts, of course. Now, this little exercise I'm showing you right now is nothing compared to some methods of interrogation that I can use on you if I wish. In a few moments, I'll release your throat, and at that point, you're going to tell me everything. I'll give you a bit of time to make sure you remember things properly, but after that, you'll be punished for delaying tactics. That means you get to find out just how creative I can be."

The hare grinned wickedly.

Fallesta desperately scoured her memory for any information Lamastas might find useful. By this point, her lungs felt like they were burning, and she was starting to feel lightheaded. She briefly considered making up a story, but quickly realized that the hare was expecting a confession from her, complete with placing the guilt on her tribe. He wanted her to say the one thing she couldn't say. Nothing else would make him stop.

She was trapped by her own morals, her unwillingness to place blame where none lay, and with a sinking feeling she realized she was going to pay dearly for it. She only hoped someday the hare would realize she had told him the truth.

_But what is the truth? How did I get caught up in this?_

Time seemed to go backwards as she remembered bits and pieces of her journey. Many of the memories were painful for her, and she had trouble remembering parts, as if her mind was already trying to forget them.

First, she remembered running through the forest, running from something that was gaining on her quickly. She had leapt in order to clear a large log, and something had hit her from behind, taking her to the ground. She hit her head and blacked out.

Then, she was being expelled from the only sanctuary she had, the one place she thought she stood a chance of escaping her dilemma.

She was crouching behind an overturned table in a tavern, trying to get her bearings as crossbow bolts punched through the wood like nails being hit by a hammer.

She meet a young fox named Karl. He was one of the few beasts who had offered her help. She felt a touch of regret that she had to leave him so soon, but she doubted he would have been up to the challenges that had been laid in front of her.

She was plunging through the River Moss, fighting against currents that threatened to carry her away, not to mention pull her closer to the stronghold of the very creatures she was running from.

She was crawling on something rather unstable, some unnaturally high distance above the floor of Mossflower. She felt queasy, and watched as some of her own vomit hit the ground below and splattered. She had the feeling she was being watched – and whoever was watching her was coming closer.

Ellis flashed through her mind, the ferret had a long gash on his face as he squared off with a group of thugs, yelling at the top of his lungs and holding his repeating crossbow menacingly.

In the next memory, she was facing another fox, who moved towards her aggressively and with a machete drawn, even as she kept her bow trained on him and pleaded with him to leave her alone. Eventually, she released the arrow. She remembered feeling depressed about what she had done, how it went against everything she had been taught as a healer. She remembered the sickness she had felt about her action even as she felt a visceral thrill pulse through her like an orgasm.

Finally, she remembered Ellis shaking her awake in the middle of the night, his paw holding her mouth shut. He told her to run, and she did, unaware of just how much of a living hell her next few weeks were going to be, or how they were going to land her where she was now.

Of course, none of this helped her satisfy the hare's demands in any way. There had to be some reason why the hares had been poisoned, but she didn't know what it was. She didn't know why someone would go to such great pains to make it look like she and Ellis were involved, and why there were so many thugs after her. After all, she was just a simple healer vixen, even if she was representing her tribe.

The smaller hare spoke again.

"You're sure she's going to tell you anything, Captain? She hasn't been too cooperative so far."

Lamastas' mouth curved in a sickening smile as he absently ran his thumbs through the fur covering Fallesta's throat, all the while choking the vixen.

"I'm sure of it, Carver. This little beauty's no fighter, and once I let her catch her breath she's going to let us know what we want in no time."

He grinned and leaned in close to Fallesta. The stench of rum on his breath was almost unbearable as he whispered in the foxmaiden's ear.

"Right, pretty one?"

The hare released her throat, and she lost her train of thought as the blood suddenly rushed back into her head. A small series of pleading little prayers in foxspeech rushed out of her mouth, much to the consternation of Lamastas. She abruptly stopped as the hare captain slammed his knuckles into the left side of her muzzle.

"We'll have none of that her, missy! Do you really think anyone is going to come and help a pathetic little murderess like you?"

Hot tears built up in Fallesta's eyes as she felt a multitude of strong emotions, ranging from fear to pain to anger. She twisted to her right and tried to roll into a ball, pulling her tail close to her in an attempt to block any further blows. Once again she wished she had her forepaws free.

"What's wrong, vixen, can't take a little pain?" Lamastas taunted.

Fallesta knew that resistance was pointless at this point, but she was still determined to make sure Lamastas realized her innocence some day. She redoubled her efforts to try and remember her journey, no matter how painful it might be.

Lamastas yelled to his assistant.

"Carver, keep her still. She isn't being overly cooperative just yet, so I'm going to get my tools and get to work."

The hare walked over to a haversack he had brought in with him. Fallesta tried to concentrate, using the same methods she had been taught to use as a healer, the ones that she used to concentrate when precious moments could mean the difference between another creature's life and death. As she drew her mind into itself, the pain of the world around her seem to dull. It was still noticeable, certainly, but it wasn't nearly as sharp. She saw Lamastas bend down and start screaming into her ear, but she barely heard him and paid him no heed as she soared over what seemed to be a timeline of her life like a falcon over treetops.

Lamastas was opening a container of some sort.

"All right vixen, since you're so bloody stubborn..."

As she soared over the timeline, the first vision flashed into her brain.

* * *

That's it for a while, as I'm still writing this project. Consider this a taste of what is to come. Reviews are always welcome!


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